The Mug

Just a small gray mug reminds me of her. Recalling whether I bought the mug or whether I received it as a gift escapes me. I only remember who used it.

She liked her decaffeinated coffee or hot tea in it. When her husband died, she visited us often and looked for it each time. After awhile I automatically set the mug out for her. She said the size and weight of it caused her less arthritic pain.

A tiny, elegant, white flower adorned the front of the cup. I later thought how that flower emulated her perfectly. Her tiny height and weight, the elegance of her demeanor and dress plus the pure white heart she possessed were like the flower.

Now the mug sits alone in the back of my cupboard. I allow no one to use it since her death. It belonged to her and to her alone.

When I see it and touch it, I think of her and miss her. Many were the gifts she bought for me, but that mug is my personal memento of the mother-in-law I loved and lost.

Spring Cleaning

On March 30, my niece, Nichole delivered a baby boy who she named Jakob Aiden. Born two months premature, the doctor predicted he’d spend possibly two months in the Pre-natal Intensive Care Unit. Instead, he improved quickly and went home 10 days later.

Two weeks ago, I held my grand nephew for the first time. I thought about many things at that time. I thought about Jakob’s sister, Faith who died the year before. I thought about my brother, Paul, Jakob’s Grandpa who died a year and two months ago. I thought about Paul holding his new grandson with a big smile on his face. And I thought about Nichole finally finding happiness after two years of sadness.

Jakob’s birth happened 10 days after Spring began. Since Spring signifies new life, what a fitting time.

The word, Spring refers to the springing forth of living things. Nature awakens in spring. Plants and trees sprout new leaves, flowers bloom and hibernating animals leave their winter sleeping homes.

Spring is a great time for new birth in a person’s life, not a physical birth like Jakob’s, but a spiritual one. Use springtime as an opportunity for spring cleaning in your heart and spirit. Let it signify a renewed spiritual awakening, a new hope, a fresh start, and a new joy, happiness, peace, and contentment.

The last line of one of my favorite hymns, "Revive Us Again" expresses this well. It says, "Revive us again; fill each heart with thy love. May each soul be rekindled with fire from above."

William P. Mackay wrote this song. He based it on Habakkuk 3:2 which says, "Lord, revive Your work in the middle of the years" (KJV). The phrase "middle of the years" means that Habakkuk requested that revival start immediately. The Lord wants to revive and renew His work in us every day. The Psalmist questioned the Lord, "Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you" (85:6)? Revival in the heart results in rejoicing.

Ask God to rekindle the joy of your salvation. Ask Him to rekindle you with "fire from above." Ask Him to burn into your soul, cleansing your heart and filling you with a new peace, a new perspective, and a new attitude.

Thank you, God for the new life of Baby Jakob. Thank you for Springtime. And thank you for the renewed sense of your Spirit that burns in my heart.

Death Lessons

Last Sunday, February 18th marked the 1st anniversary of my brother, Paul’s death. These last two weeks, I found myself crying often and feeling hurt and sad almost constantly. This past year has been the most difficult year of my entire life.

Paul accepted Christ not long before he died. I'm so relieved that I'll see him in heaven someday but not a day goes by that I don’t miss him here on earth. I wish for one more hug and one more chance to say, "I love you, Paul."

My brother loved eagles and collected them. They were everywhere in his house. My niece, Nichole brought his eagle collection to the funeral home and displayed them throughout the rooms. Dwight Kingsbury, my brother-in-law sang two solos about eagles at the funeral service and in our son, Nathan’s part of the service, he talked about Paul’s eagles.

We even used the verse from Isaiah 40:31 on his funeral cards. It says, "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." I’ve heard, or read that verse almost every week since Paul’s death. It always reminds me of him.

I learned valuable lessons from Paul's death and from my grieving time. I hope I never forget these lessons. I learned to:

1. Clear Up Disagreements & Arguments Immediately.
The bible tells us, "Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry" (Ephesians. 4:26). I practice this as a wife but it’s important with any relationship. Reacting with hurtful words destroys relationships. Ask forgiveness quickly whether it’s your fault or not.

2. Spend Time With Those I Love
My biggest regret was not spending more time with Paul. Why didn’t I visit him more, phone him more, and take him out to eat more? All of us live busy lives but take it from me; relationships matter more than jobs, or social events.

3. Save Mementos & Take Lots of Pictures
The pictures of Paul plus the letters, cards and gifts I received from him are priceless to me now. A few weeks back, I found a picture of him that I’d forgotten about. His always-smiling face looked exactly how I remembered. How thankful I am for that picture.

4. Show Affection Often
Whenever we left each other, Paul and I hugged. I miss his hugs. I make a point of hugging others now, especially family members. Hug your loved ones even if it’s a huge effort for you.

5. Say I Love You Often
The last time I spoke with Paul was on the telephone two weeks before he died. I remember thinking, "I want to say I love you before he says it to me." He beat me to it. His famous line before he left us or hung up the phone was, "I love you and all that stuff." What a lesson for all of us to learn, always say I love you. Say it often.

6. Find Good in People While They’re Alive
At Paul’s funeral viewing and service, the amount of people who were affected by his life, who loved him, appreciated him and mourned deeply for him amazed me. His kindness, generosity, laughter, humor, work ethics and love were appreciated by many. Find good in people. It’s there. Dwell on the good in people not the bad, and also dwell on the present, not the past.

7. Send Personal Cards & Letters
I sent many birthday and Christmas cards to Paul and usually included a letter or wrote one on the card but I wish I’d written more no-occasion cards and letters. I realize the importance of these things now

8. Pray Every Day for Those I Love
I prayed for many years for Paul’s salvation. I also prayed often for his health. But I did not pray for him every day. I regret that now.

Realize now how important your loved ones are. Appreciate and love them now while you have them because my brother died suddenly without warning, without any chance for me to say good-bye.

The Wall Hanging

Rummaging through my junk drawer, I discovered a small wall hanging received five years earlier. My first thought, "Look at those dark purple roses, how pretty." I then remembered why I had placed it in that drawer instead of hanging it on a wall. First of all, the purple roses clash with every room in my house, but the main reason, it reminds me of an embarrassing moment. This embarrassing memory turns my face a dark shade of red.

Before my husband's job moved us to Michigan, I held an elected position for five years in our denomination's district woman's ministry in Ohio. Two months after moving to Michigan, the Ohio Womnen's Director asked me to return for the yearly convention.

The morning of the convention I chose a stylish dress with high heels to match. I also spent extra time on my make-up and hair hoping to boost my confidence with what I wore and how I looked.

My part of the convention, reporting on the 2000-2001 outreach activities appeared toward the top of the printed agenda. Anticipating reading my report caused my heart to pound, my hands to perspire, and my confidence to wane.

They finally called my name and I walked slowly up the stairs to the platform. I read my report and asked for questions. The assembly then accepted my report and I walked back toward the steps. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

I walked slowly down the steps, mindful of carrying myself gracefully and confidently. But when my right foot hit the third step, my heel caught and I tumbled down the last step landing on the floor below. I fell in the most ungraceful manner possible. "Oh no!" resounded from the four hundred women. This added to my humiliation. I picked myself up, dusted off my hands and my dress, and walked to my front row seat.

"Are you alright, Cindy?" the director asked concernedly.

"I'm fine, just embarrassed," I answered fighting back the tears begging to flow.

An hour later, the director expressed her thankfulness for the five years I served on the committee. She said, "Cindy, if you'll come to the platform, I have a gift for you."

I gratefully stood and walked toward the platform. Then I thought about the earlier incident and stopped. I looked at the director and asked sheepishly, "Would you mind if I accept my gift down here? I'm a bit leery of those steps." The whole auditorium roared.

The wall hanging was the gift I received that day. Unfortunately, this was only one of many embarrassing moments in my life. In fact, I embarass myself quite often. What about you?

A Near Miss

They called it a near miss, but I called it a miracle. It was a warm August evening. Since the next day looked hectic, I decided to buy groceries that evening. I wrote a quick list and headed to the car.

While I shopped, it started raining. “Please Lord, stop the rain before I drive home,” I prayed. I drove home pleased that the rain had stopped and I had one less job to accomplish the next day.

I turned onto our road thinking, “Only five more miles and I’m home.” Suddenly, the car started sliding, and then spinning. I screamed, “Help me, Lord!”

Instantly, I saw the faces of my husband, my son, my parents, and my brothers’ reel before my eyes like a movie screen tape. I thought, “I’m going to die.”

I blacked out and awakened in the back seat. My head, neck and arm hurt, but thankfully, I was alive.

Water started seeping in. After trying unsuccessfully to open the back window, I climbed into the front seat. I leaned on the front door but it refused to open. I was trapped.

I fell onto the steering wheel sobbing. This caused the horn to honk. I decided to continue laying on the horn. Two cars passed by without stopping. The third one stopped.

A young man opened the door, pulled me out, sat me in his car and then called an ambulance at a house near by. Upon arriving, the paramedics wrapped my head, put a brace on my neck and put my body on a stretcher.

The car was totaled, but besides eight stitches in my head, a chipped neck bone and many cuts and bruises, I was fine. Many people told me, “You just missed a telephone pole. You almost died.”

They called it a near miss, but I called it a miracle. The policemen called it “a worm slide.” And after that, my church family called me “Crash Kingsbury.”

A Gift From God

“Did you hear about that Kingsbury baby?” asked one of the night nurses.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked the other nurse.

“His mom, the woman in that room is an insulin-dependent diabetic. They delivered her baby 7 weeks early. He’s one sick baby. They don’t expect him to live through the night.”

At two in the morning, I laid awake worrying about our baby born by Cesarean section at 8:30 that evening. I tossed and turned trying unsuccessfully to sleep. Now hearing what these two nurses said outside my room made me cry. Needing to talk to someone, I phoned my mother.

“Hello,” she answered apprehensively. With a call that early in the morning, she most likely thought the baby had died.

“Mom, they don’t think the baby will make it through the night. Two nurses were talking about him outside my room just now.” I sobbed uncontrollably.

“I think he’ll make it, Cindy, just trust God. You’ve been through too much for this baby to die now. He’s going to make it, I really believe he will.”

I felt better when I hung up the phone. I trusted my mother and the prayers she'd prayed for me and my baby. I spent half my pregnancy in the hospital. I also spent two days in Intensive Care, gone into labor at five months until they stopped it, had my blood sugars tested four times a day, and endured what seemed like a hundred other tests. “Please God,” I prayed, “after all of this, don’t let him die.”

Two weeks later, we brought our baby home. We named him Nathaniel David, David after my husband. We later learned that Nathaniel means, “gift from God.” How true this name proved to be.

Nathan learned to overcome many difficulties in life, yet he remained a happy, contented person. Among the difficulties was a slight learning disability caused by undetected hearing loss and possiibly his premature birth and the insulin he received before birth. One grade school teacher told me he most likely wouldn't graduate from college.

This statement which demeaned his intelligence caused a lack of confidence but no bitterness. Instead, it produced a determination to succeed. At twelve years of age, Nathan felt a call to the ministry. He determined with God’s help to succeed at graduating from high school and from college. He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Christian Ministries from Indiana Wesleyan University in 2001.

Nathan’s determination and overall outlook on life taught me many things. He taught me to stay positive and to realize that a loving attitude instead of a judgmental one produces better results. He taught me forgiveness, conflict management and affection. He taught me the importance of fun and laughter. And he taught me persistence, no matter how far away a goal seems.

I thought about these things as I watched Nathan standing at the altar with his beautiful bride-to-be. He looked handsome, happy, and proud on this his wedding day. I thought, “Most mothers teach their children, but I learned more then what I taught. Nathan truly is a gift from God. Thank you, God, for this gift.”

Happy or Sad?

I hold a picture in my hand right now. The picture shows what looks like a 40ish man walking a bride down the aisle of a church. Neither of these people looks happy. I wonder why and then I recall why. I remember that evening well because it was my wedding day.

Three hours at the beauty shop that day with one of my bridesmaids accomplished nothing. The humidity had slowly removed the curls from my hair. The weather also affected my make-up. The perspiration ran down my face washing away my foundation, blush and even my eye shadow.

When I arrived at the church, I dreaded putting my long-sleeved, lace wedding dress on. I re-curled my hair with hot rollers, and reapplied my make-up. Mom helped me with my dress trying not to ruin my curls and make-up. I then waited for that once in a lifetime walk down the aisle. I felt ugly instead of pretty thanks to the busyness and the heat.

First my Mom and my groom’s parents entered the sanctuary. The bridesmaids walking arm in arm with the groomsmen would soon follow them with the flower girl and ring bearer close behind. I listened to the music in the back picturing the events taking place. When I stepped out into the foyer, I looked at Dad and smiled. He looked so handsome but also very sad.

“You look beautiful, Cindy,” he said. Tears started rolling down his face. I stood there startled. I only remembered two other times when I witnessed my father crying.

“Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just feel like I’m losing my little girl,” he said as he brushed the tears away. He grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose and wiped away the tears.

I remember thinking many things in those few brief moments. Thoughts like, “I’ll just call this off,” and “This isn’t worth making my Dad sad.” I felt guilt, sadness, and even a bit of resentment toward my groom. Tears welled up in my eyes too. I hugged my precious father and we both cried.

“We better get going,” he finally said. He patted my back and handed me a Kleenex.

We walked toward the sanctuary. I wiped away one more tear as we stopped to listen to my future sister-in-law read the poem I'd written for my husband-to-be. The Wedding March began and we walked forward.

I clung to Dad’s arm down that long aisle. I thought about those special moments we shared in the foyer and squeezed his hand. Then I smiled as I looked straight ahead because there stood a very handsome man, my husband-to-be. I felt pride and happiness. The sadness vanished.

This month on August 21, that handsome man, David John Kingsbury and I will celebrate 30 years of marriage. We’ve had a wonderful life together.